


Sonata for the Roses

by darkstachio (aqxas)



Category: Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Dark plays the piano, Darkstache - Freeform, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aqxas/pseuds/darkstachio
Summary: A song from a heart that stopped beating long ago. A dusty piano, now used once more.





	Sonata for the Roses

It was a sound so soft that a single breath could have hidden it away. A gentle finger brushed against the key, the single note that whispered through the room a reflection of the caution that filled the man’s heart. He couldn’t remember the last time he had touched these keys, or perhaps he simply chose to forget. Something about the way his grey hands were framed against the black and white, his skin nearly prickling with anticipation, made him want to run and hide inside of himself - it was a part of him that was yearning to come out once more, and he was afraid to indulge it. Not the fear of losing control of it, never that; it was more the fear of letting himself feel. 

Dark was alone in the manor’s parlor, kept company only by the sunlight streaming through the glass doors and his reflection inside the polished black lacquer of the grand piano. It stared back at him through the beams of light, wondering why he was so cautious to let himself play. He had to look away, gazing out the window at the rose garden that had been there for ages, and rolled over in his mind countless reasons to go ahead and even more reasons not to. Before he even knew what his own body was doing, he was already taking a seat along the padded bench,his knuckles crackling as he stretched them out. It was an intimate moment as he primed himself for whatever may start to roll from his fingertips, scrunching his eyebrows deep in concentration as he tried to remember even a snippet of a music sheet he may have looked at so long ago. With nothing clear yet dredged up from his memory, his heart was beginning to beat with a rhythm his brain didn’t have to know - slowly but surely, he began to press down the keys. The beginning was full of a shyness few would recognize, each careful note ringing off the walls like the laughter of an old friend. He began to ease into a melody that he now remembered had always been his favorite to play, and when he looked down at himself, he wasn’t quite sure whether his hands were his own anymore. They picked up a beautiful tempo, tapping out a haunting song that filled his chest with a sense of familiarity he didn’t know he craved.

The sunlight from the window now illuminated his monochromatic face, spilling over his skin with a warmth even he could relish in. Few things made his chilled bones feel alive, and the friendly glow of the sun always tried it’s best to do so. Dust floated through the air, gently brushed from the keys as he continued to play his tune, dancing in the light like flecks of dull magic. Bittersweet moments and fleeting smiles sang through the room on a delicate wind, unaware of the eyes that watched him so carefully from beyond the doorway. 

The man with the curled mustache was scared to take even a single step, but found himself content to watch from a distance anyway. He was hidden away, but not so carefully that normally Dark would have noticed him right off the bat. The fact that he hadn’t noticed only made Wilford want to exist in that moment even longer, letting his gaze wander around the scene that was almost too beautiful to be anything but a dream. His silhouette was relaxed, letting his shoulders rest and his messy raven locks brush over his eye in a manner that was too charming for his own good. It was such a treat to see him as though no one else were around, his walls that he had built around himself now faded away as Wilford peered into the soul he was so deeply in love with.

The song’s end was a trickle into silence, all too soon for the observer, but fitting nonetheless. Dark lingered on his seat, his hands resting on the keys as though he were tempted to play another, but he made no other action to do so. His expression was painted with faded remembrance - of what, Wilford couldn’t guess. But the end was the end, and the man slowly stood to walk away, his touch lingering along the smooth surface of the piano and leaving a curving trail among the thin veil of dust that still remained. When he realized he was heading towards the very doorway he was hidden behind, Wilford sucked in a breath and tried to act nonchalant, though that was a skill he had always sorely lacked. Their eyes met as soon as Dark looked up from his own feet, and it made his smooth step falter. 

“Hey there.” It was the only greeting Wilford could muster, the usually blabbering man now at a mysterious loss for words. Something about how tender the moment had been that he had witnessed made him feel butterflies in his stomach, which was a rare occurrence indeed. His arms were still crossed as he leaned his shoulder against the wall, smiling as Dark resumed his pace and made his way over to him. 

“How long have you been here?” He mumbled, obviously fearing what he likely knew was the truth. He fiddled with his rolled-up sleeve cuffs, folding them to his elbows and not-so-subtly trying to act as though nothing had happened. That man was the king of glossing things over, and Wilford had a bad habit of letting him sometimes.

So he reached forward, taking the grey hand that so meticulously smoothed the wrinkles of his shirt, and stepped closer to Dark. His scent was as familiar as his face itself, smelling gently of expensive cologne and a night full of stars, but his skin was still warm from the sun that kissed him as he played his one-man concert. No verbal answer was required for his question as he pressed his forehead against the other man’s, letting his eyes flutter closed as he breathed in. He could tell that Dark was initially stiff, but just as planned, he relaxed into his touch and laced their fingers together at their sides. 

There had been a certain kind of sadness in his music, a pain so deep that it soaked into every note. It was easily something that one could notice, even Wilford, and he knew that the pain was from somewhere in his very core. There was nothing he could do to fix it, he had discovered that long ago, but he would give anything in the world to make it go away for at least a little while. So when he softly pressed his lips against Dark’s, letting stray beams of the approaching sunset dance across their faces, he hoped he conveyed the silent song he composed just for him.

**Author's Note:**

> (Decided to post this here because I originally put it on Tumblr for Darkstache Week!)


End file.
